


Sleeper

by Analphancones



Category: Cartman x Kyle, Kyle Brofloski/Eric Cartman, Kyman - Fandom
Genre: Aged up characters, Angst, Drinking, Fourth of July, Internalized Homophobia, Kyman - Freeform, M/M, Tension, Unrequited Love, childhood crush, everyone is about 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:51:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analphancones/pseuds/Analphancones
Summary: Kyle has liked girls shortly and often, but he's liked Cartman all his life. At his worst, at his best, on top of the world and groveling. After high school Eric, Kenny, Stan and Kyle find themselves not hanging around each other as much, least of all, all together. It comes shock when Eric who as of sophomore year moved three hours away from the small town of South Park. Everyone manages to make it for their own reasons when Cartman invites everyone to his mothers for a Fourth of July party,but Eric and Kyle drunkenly have a much needed conversation. Kind of.





	Sleeper

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written kyman before so don't hate me this fic means loads to me hoes

I’ve always liked girls. Not like my friends did sure. I never liked girls like they did, not even well into our teens. The only other one of us who maybe liked girls as much as me was Cartman. I only really saw him with Heidi, and we were so young then. He was awful. I wish I hadn’t butted heads so hard with them back then, we were all so young. I might have liked her back, or maybe just didn’t like that she was with Cartman for other reasons. I can’t say. 

Though other than that, he hasn’t shown much interest in dating. No new girls in or out of his life. Then again we weren’t always together so what do I know. He’s not the personal life type, unless he wants to manipulate you. I don’t really put us together in the virgin club though, because he’s lonely because he’s an asshole. I like that about him. 

It could be because it’s such a small town, the population gets lower every two three years. Some would say options were limited. So maybe it’s just I never found a girl quite pretty enough, or if I did it was only because him and I had dropped off a few months. Happens now that he’s left town. The Cartman’s, up and moving. No one ever thought. 

I think we were fourteen when that happened, but time is slower the older you get. Every time I can see him I do. Even if it means convincing one of my friends to drive me three hours away, I will. He may act like he hates me but he’s better company than some. Than most. 

Stan and Wendy have been together so long, it’s marriage and kids in just a few years. Being all young adults now, it makes sense. I get it. We’re grown. But it makes Stan less conversational and available to be social by the day. I understand though, he’s still my best friend. 

I would be around Kenny more but, he’s always in his own bubble. Cartman thinks he’s doing drugs. I couldn’t say what he was doing. Sometimes we game together. Sometimes we pass wherever and hang for a while. The town may still be insane, bustling and noisy- but we were all sort of radio silence.

So when Cartman invited me up to his moms for the fourth, I wasn’t surprised. Mrs. Cartman always was one for a big show,s o to speak. She spoiled that fucking kid so much, of course she had money for a shit ton of fireworks. But it’s liquor and someone who can make me chuckle, it’s a three hour drive but it’s already decided before I can think. 

Even Stan managed to escape his happy life, happy wife home, agreeing to carpool for money reasons. Felt good to hang out with him one on one again. Remembered why he was my best friend nearly my entire life. Why couldn’t it be him instead of Cartman?

His music taste had changed since highschool. His genre is more mid tempo and rock based. I didn’t mind letting him have the aux cord, we were using his car anyway. Kenny got an invite but there was no reply or guarantee so, Cartman says he takes it as a decline. As do we. The windows stayed down and the temperature was just right without turning on the a/c or heat, the drive almost felt like nothing even if it was six in the morning. Stan was amped, and I think deep down he knows how much seeing Cartman means to me. I’d never have to say it. He was the first and only person I ever told about my //thing// toward Eric. 

He knew better than to explain to me the obvious- who he is, what he’s done, where he’s been. I know. So he knows to only take what I told him and acknowledge it seldom, as that is all really he can do. We were younger back then, seventeen or so. Not by much but enough for me to wonder if he is still hoping time will ease it a way for me. That much I can’t tell. 

Stan knows I like females. He’s seen me genuinely love someone, genuinely like someone. He also knows Cartman is the only guy I’ve ever liked this way. He said that was interesting, to only like one other guy but be attracted to women the same as you are to him. We left it at that. 

Bisexual isn’t the word, but straight isn’t either. So I remain fairly sexually ambiguous and keep to myself. When we get there Stan knows how anxious and excited I am. I pull on my jacket, it’s early in the morning and the air is a bit cold. It’s a good summer morning. 

Stan and Cartman share pleasantries but they weren’t really as close anymore. Not that they ever were to begin with. They like each other but mostly exchange via myself anymore. I don’t mind it. At least they get along. A lot of Cartman’s family was there. Some I had met, some I had heard about, and some I never even knew of. It was already better than what I would have been doing otherwise. 

There were fireworks, tons. Eric claimed to have bought them himself, I was impressed. I believed him. Good food. Burgers, brats, hotdogs. The barbecue cooked works. The weather wasn’t half bad for once too. It was a good start. Stan offered if he bought liquor if we would drink with him. We agreed. 

So Cartman’s mom bought a couple bottles on her sons friends tab, so after the fireworks were done we could all get smashed. I liked the idea of seeing Cartman drunk. Had I ever seen him drunk? He isn’t really the type, except on occasion. I always wondered how he could be like that. I found the occasional drink fixes a lot. I envy him in that regard because I never would have guessed it. 

The show was fun. We goofed off and got ourselves into some dangerous situations- including but not limited to jumping onto a moving train, jumping over fountain fireworks, lighting on bonfire with a roman candle, etc. It was like high school again. Cartman gave me the same butterflies as ever. 

I wonder once again why it wasn’t Stan I was like this toward, but as I move to glance over to him by the end of the night he’s wandered outside to his car. Said he wants to enjoy his buzz and listen to music. Kenny had stopped in for a while but it was short lived, for when Stan went outside and one of Cartman’s cousin in tow, a cigarette in hand, it was just drunk myself and Cartman in the house. His mother had gone to bed as she had work the next day, miscellaneous relatives heading home, our friends one gone and the other passing out trashed in his car. 

We all took turns with the liquor. I drank a good portion of the whiskey myself, to build some nerve and some energy but mostly just for fun. Cartman was a light weight considering how little he typically drinks, so maybe six or seven shots in at best he is gone. It was rare to see him drunk. It was nice, gave him some light I had never seen before. A new side of him. We’re a little too close all night. 

Stan is drinking but just enough to catch a buzz, he knows Wendy will be pissed if he comes home tomorrow hung the fuck over. He’s smart like that, domestic too. I liked that in him. On his way out, his lips closing enough sip off a beer, his hand holding the front door open,”Just kiss already. Pussies.” He sneered, laughing as the door closed behind him. Come to think of it, maybe him leaving us alone was on purpose. 

Cartman was face down, drinking non alcoholic sparking cider thinking it was in fact, alcoholic. “What do you mean there’s no alcohol?” He bitches, “That’s why it tasted so nice.” 

“There’s a couple wine coolers, Low alcohol but it’ll keep you tapered.” I suggested, standing up to get myself another. 

“Would you, Kyle?” While the normal drawl he usually said my name with I was saved from this time, I found myself missing it oddly. 

Rolling my eyes I brought him one, sitting on the ground and opening mine. I set the cap on a nearby desk and wrapped myself in one of the blankets his family had provided us. I got cozy and sipped my drink, just looking at him. He had really grown into something. He was always a chunkier kid, short, goofy smile and laugh. Goofy or evil, that fuckers laugh. He’s lankier now, still a little weight left to see but nothing that wasn’t attractive. He was still fucking insane but, he was better company the older he got. 

I could see through the window under the dim street lights, Stan had passed out in his car, foot on the door and neck crooked. I chuckled under my breath and took another drink. “Why’d you invite all of us out here?” I asked curiously. 

“Because it’s so far away.” He sipped his drink, shrugging and laying back. He lazily set his now half gone drink on a coffee table, his head by his legs and knee in the air. He laid his arm over his stomach. “I wondered if it had been so long you guys had moved on. It’s been weird since highschool.” He said. 

“Yeah..” I agreed with a nod. “Not to suck my own dick or anything, but I’m who got Stan here.” I bragged, swishing my drink in its bottle before downing the last of it and setting the bottle down behind me near the couch. 

“I could have gotten him here with or without you jew boy.” He snapped, smiling afterward. I noticed also, the older we got, the more he smiled after his insults. Maybe that meant something good. 

“Oh yeah? You really think YOU could have convinced Wendy to let him come here?” 

“I don’t have to convince her, I have to convince him to defy her.” He smirks. He sits up and stretches his back, moving a little closer toward me in the process. I swallow. “Beside, he already told me why he came. He knew how much you wanted to see me.” I could feel my cheeks blushing but just cleared my throat to distract him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. 

“He’s a fag.” I retorted. “He’s so deep in the closet he’s finding Christmas presents.” I turned to lean my back against the couch. He did the same a few feet from me. I guess we both needed the lumbar support. 

“He says the same thing about you.” He laughs off my words, backhanding the side of my leg gently.

“I’m sure the fuck he does.” I mock to him, laughing softly and leaning my head back to close my eyes. I was definitely a little more drunk than I thought I would be. I knew he was too. 

“Of all of us I would leave it to you to be the closeted fag.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” I laughed, turning to look at him. He shrugs for the hundredth time, moving to stand up but his knee giving out. Somehow he’s laying in my lap and staying there. 

“It might be because I’m drunk but, I kind of hate fags.” He admitted, looking to the side. His eyes were shut and I moved a hand to his hair, it was bold but he didn’t stop me. 

“Probably fucking sucks for you then since you’re such a fucking queer.” I flicked his head. He laughed and rolled in his spot, his nose against my thigh.

“That makes this really hard.” He mumbles quietly. “I hate you so fucking much.” 

“I hate you too, fatboy.” I smacked his back softly. We were looking at each other now. 

“You think Stan will come back in tonight?” He asks, moving to sit up a bit. “I don’t know if I should lock the front door or not.” 

I cleared my throat quietly, shaking my head. “He’s drank a bit, so it should be a few more hours before he’ll try to come back in.” I offered as an answer. 

I feel his breath on my face, the couch shielding us from the front doors first person view as Stan swung the creaking door open, yawning at top volume. “I’m getting eaten alive by mosquitoes out there.” He says as we separate with haste, Stan lugging himself onto one of the two couches. 

“I thought you were gonna sleep in your car?” I laugh quietly. 

“It was too hot without my windows down, but bugs ate me.” He grumbles, rolling over and burying his face in the arm of the couch. A few final sighs later, I can tell he’s asleep.

When I look over, Stan finally comfortable and fast asleep, Cartman is already going to sleep too. He looks like he just passed out. He’s face first, a sheet lazily wrapped around him for warmth. Not even using a pillow. I guess the liquor hit him harder than I thought originally. It’s almost three am as is. Might as well do the same. 

I wonder if it’ll always be like this. So close but never all the way there. Tonight was as far as it ever got. I hope that means I have a chance.

I’ll see what happens. We’ve got forever to do this.


End file.
